Tricks of the Mind
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: After the fallout of POA, Albus has harsh words for Severus - and Severus decides to simply submit.  But Albus' punishment does not stop there - Severus will spend the holiday with him.  Severus, trapped and angry, is being driven ever closer to his edge.
1. Chapter 1

**Trick of the Mind**

_Inspired and written for SpencerReid, using her suggestions and characterisation of both Severus and Albus. I hope it's what you wanted, my dear!_

_Starts during the Prisoner of Azkaban - if you recognise any of JKR's words - that is because they are hers, and not mine!_

_Yes, I have finally written THE scene which brings my Severus/Albus relationship to a standstill...the end of the POA._

_~SS19_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

The door opened again. It was Dumbledore. Severus, lingering by the window after Harry's condemnation of his story, turned to face the Headmaster - but he did not speak, not yet. After all, he needed to hear what the Headmaster had to say. His head was aching, and he wondered if he should have consented to treatment - maybe he had a concussion. He felt weary, and slightly nauseous. But he would not rest until this was solved; Sirius Black was a murderer, Remus Lupin was a werewolf who had been helping an old friend into the castle - both were guilty.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black - " Harry was shouting, and Severus wished he would be quiet, because his head was pounding.

Poppy Pomfrey did not seem particularly keen on all these constant interruptions, and she was beginning to get angry, "For heaven's sake, is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist - "

But Dumbledore interrupted, and neared the bed. Severus watched him, knowing that the Headmaster had yet to even glance at him. "My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr Potter and Miss Granger." Dumbledore was acting oddly, Severus thought - surely he did not believe what they were saying, what Black was saying? "I have just been talking to Sirius Black -"

That was too much for Severus - his head was incredibly sore and he was tired and Dumbledore was believing Sirius Black - "I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind? Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive?"

Albus Dumbledore turned to face him, and he surveyed Severus through his glasses, eyes empty of any emotion besides resolution, "That, indeed, is Black's story." His voice bode no argument, but Severus was more angry than he had been.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" Why did his opinion always count for nothing against Potter's? He was older, wiser, and had been in Dumbledore's service far longer than a child who was simply lucky to be surrounded by those who would give their lives for him - even Severus - "Peter Petttigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him in the grounds." He was well aware his voice was slightly unstable, but that was because he was sure he had a concussion, and he was feeling sick.

The shrill piercing of Hermione Granger's voice did nothing to help that, "That was because you were knocked out, Professor! You didn't arrive in time to hear - "

Something inside Severus broke, painfully, and he whirled to face the girl, "Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" He would not be overruled by a thirteen year old girl, no matter how earnest she seemed.

Watching him ever more closely, Albus straightened his back and stared at Severus, but Severus had not noticed. While the Headmaster remained quiet, Cornelius Fudge chose to speak up, "Now, Snape, the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances..."

"I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone." Albus interrupted Cornelius and the response Severus was formulating on his tongue, "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy - please leave us."

Severus stared at him during Poppy's reaction. He was being _sent_ from the room - he had done nothing wrong - he had been there too! He had seen Sirius Black - why wasn't the Headmaster listening to him.

"This cannot wait." Albus reasoned with Poppy, "I must insist."

But as she left, and Fudge walked to the door, murmuring something about Dementors, Severus could not draw his eyes away from the Headmaster. It was clear, then. Even after all this time - even after what Black had done, and what Severus had sacrificed to become Dumbledore's servant - he still favoured the Gryffindors. He had not moved - he was stunned - this could not be happening, Dumbledore was supposed to protect Severus - "You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?"

And Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, before repeating his earlier statement, "I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone."

He took a step forward, determined to see something in those blue eyes, something other than hard glass - "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen." His voice had dropped to something below a whisper, but he knew Dumbledore could hear every word he was saying - this was not fair - unjust - and completely predictable of the older wizard. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

But Albus had never believed it was intentional murder - he believed it had just been an accident - a practical joke gone wrong, and he saw only how Sirius and James had rushed to Severus' aid - and he had never seen the true victim, his eyes too blinded by Remus - "My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus." And there, in those words, was the threat - he was suggesting he remembered Severus' own past, his days long gone by, the weapon Dumbledore constantly held over his Potions' Professor, and used as a tool when he needed to.

Unable to stand to be in the same room as Albus any longer, knowing he was acting hurt, Severus stormed from the room, out into the corridor, ignoring Fudge. He moved out onto the nearest balcony, wishing his heart would stop pounding and his body temperature would cool. He should not have lost his temper, that would look bad. He exhaled slowly, propping his head up in his hands. Well, it made no difference - Black would still be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss and Severus was determined to watch that, at least. Black was in Filius' office - perhaps Severus would be able to taunt him, one final time. He turned and set off in the direction of the seventh floor, a few steps behind Fudge. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not see Harry and Hermione slip into the shadows beside him and only emerge when he was safely past.

He neared the top of the staircase, pressing one hand to his forehead and feeling it sticky with blood. The nausea had not yet passed, and he wondered if he was still suffering from concussion. It was nothing a good night's sleep would not solve when he was able, and he hoped to go to bed later that night.

As he neared Flitwick's office, he became aware of confusion and commotion, as well as much noise. He could discern only two words.

"Black's escaped!"

Anger, white hot, shot through him - how had Black escaped - he pushed back the Ministry officials and the shocked Filius and stared at the wreckage of the office - but Black was definitely gone.

"Might I enquire as to the noise?" Albus Dumbledore had swept around the corner, one eyebrow slightly raised and seeming perfectly innocent.

Fudge stormed forward, "Black's escaped."

Severus paused, turning slowly to look at Dumbledore. "You. You did this."

Albus simply stared at him, "I have simply no idea what you are talking about, Severus." He replied, tone benign.

Severus advanced on him, "Then if not you - Potter."

"Severus?"

"It's Potter - who else could it be!" Severus stormed past the Headmaster, toward the stairs, heading back to the Hospital Wing, knowing that the Headmaster and Minister were only one step behind.

"What are you talking about, Snape?" Fudge demanded.

"Potter is responsible for this. Black. Escaping." He glared at the Headmaster, who remained rather calm and did not seem affected by Severus' accusations.

"Do not be ridiculous, Snape. He must have Disapparated, we should have left somebody in the room with him."

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Severus whirled and spat in Fudge's face, "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARTE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS - HAS - SOMETHING - TO - DO - WITH -POTTER!"

They were on the fourth floor now. Albus reached out and touched Severus' arm, but he wrenched his limb away, "Severus - be reasonable - Harry has been locked up -"

Severus slammed the door to the Hospital Wing open, stormed through, and neared Potter, "OUT WITH IT, POTTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?" He knew how he was losing control, he knew what was happening to him, he was angry beyond belief, filled with hate and fury, mostly aimed at Dumbledore and his favouritism.

"Professor Snape!" Poppy seemed as though she was going to charge toward him and pull him away from the Gryffindor student - Harry tried to pull away, but Severus could see in his mind as he pierced him with his gaze - he could see them on the hippogriff - he wasn't listening to Poppy or Fudge, the red haze was settling - "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!"

"Calm down, man! You're talking nonsense!" Fudge censured, which Severus would have found amusing - _he _was talking nonsense? He whirled to face Fudge, still ignoring Dumbledore, who was watching him with an almost amused expression on his face - he was enjoying this - he was finding Severus and his loss of control a source of entertainment! "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER! HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT-" Why was no one listening to him?

"That will do, Severus." Dumbledore's voice being soft, quiet, and sharp as a knife, cut straight through him. "Think about what you were saying." He was clearly insulting Severus, making a mockery of him in front of the Minister and in front of Harry, as he had done all those years ago - just with Harry's father - "This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madame Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" Poppy replied. "I've been with them ever since you left!"

Severus was not yet ready to back down - but Albus cut across him. "Well, there you have it, Severus." A pause, "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." His voice was patronising, his tone condescending.

Severus stared at him, furious, trembling, seething - and Albus looked at him. His blue eyes were angry, burning with bright flames, hard and icy. They were not twinkling, tonight.

He gritted his teeth, and swallowed. He straightened his back and inhaled slowly. Albus still continued to stare at Severus until he turned away and walked from the Hospital Wing.

He heard the words about him in the next moments, "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore. Fellow seems unbalanced."

And Albus. Albus, whom Severus trusted, defiling his name even further. "Oh, he's not unbalanced. He's just suffered a severe disappointment." The words were poisonous, suggesting Severus was just that.

A disappointment.

As soon as he was safely ensconced in the tapestry corridor, he kicked the wall violently and clenched his fists, hunting desperately for that discipline he had instilled in himself at an early age, trying to control his breathing.

Yet he could think of only one thing. Revenge.

* * *

><p>Breakfast time. Albus would not look at him. Poppy was still fuming, glaring in his direction. People could tell that all was amiss at the staff table - Minerva was looking between the Headmaster and the Potions Master, as Severus forced dry toast down his throat.<p>

Minerva, perturbed, leaned over to murmur into Albus' ear, "What is it, Albus?"

Albus glanced at her, "Just old prejudices, Minerva."

Severus heard him. Old prejudices. The toast was suddenly like ash in his mouth. He stood, slowly, glancing at Dumbledore. He narrowed his eyes, just slightly, yet still the Headmaster would not honour him with even a momentary gaze.

His head was still throbbing, painfully.

So he moved down to the Slytherin table, crossing to one of his students and leaning to whisper into his ear. "I need to speak to Lucius, Draco, as soon as possible."

Draco Malfoy looked up at him, "Why, Professor?"

"For the simple reason - your Defence professor is a werewolf."

Draco raised one eyebrow in almost a perfect imitation of his Head of House, "I shall owl him immediately."

Severus nodded in gratitude, straightening his back. Dumbledore was watching him now. As he walked away, he heard the whispers start, and allowed himself a small smile.

Lupin would be gone before the end of the day.

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><p><em>Continuation later in the week.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Tricks of the Mind**

_Hello everyone - a special wave to TheAngryOkatu - I am so glad you are pleased! It gets better, but I have changed some bits from your original notes to make them easier to write for me. But please know your PM sits on my desk with my scribblings all over it!_

_I hope we enjoy my first, serious, Albus and Severus argument. I have gone to hide under the bed with the next, half written chapter of Bumblebee Blood to console myself._

_~ SS19_

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><p>Mesi glanced up from what was occupying her attention when she heard the footsteps approaching the door to her rooms. The gait was slower than usual, and she wondered if that meant he was tired. She knew who it was, of course - she knew his walking style better than anyone's. She raised herself up from the floor and padded toward the adjoining room as the door opened and Severus blasted through. Mesi contemplated him as he took off his external cloak and folded it onto the back of the chair; his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he was carrying a rather cruel cut on his forehead that she was sure she had seen last night. She watched as he poured a beaker of whiskey, sitting down on the armchair by the sofa with a long sigh, before deciding to approach him.<p>

He glanced toward her, "Good evening, Mesi."

She purred in response, and he held out a hand toward her. The part Kneazle, part Egyptian Mau, crossed to him and nuzzled her face briefly against his fingers, before lightly springing up onto the arm of the chair and then onto the table beside it, her favourite place in the small rooms. He lazily brushed the back of his hand on top of her head, avoiding her sensitive ears, exhaling once again. "I am sorry about last night." Severus murmured, referring to how he had stormed into his quarters at half past three that morning, swearing and muttering obscenities under his breath, forgetting to feed Mesi and slamming his bedroom door closed. She knew that something had offended her master, and that he was upset. She mewled softly at him, and he responded by tucking one finger under her chin and smiling at her. "At least I will always have you, Mesi."

Mesi had slinked into Severus' life - literally - three years before. Severus had been travelling in Egypt on the search for an obscure potions ingredient he needed - in a market in Cairo, he had wandered down one of the side streets and had come across a small creature crying pathetically in an alleyway. It was a kitten - nothing more - thin and dirty and half starved. Yet when Severus had come closer to investigate, the creature had hissed and spat at him in offence and anger - and Severus had understood the creature's plight. He had calmed her, offered her some of his food, and had helped her back to her feet. He knew the nature of cats - and Kneazles - and did not expect to see her again when he left her with the remains of his lunch and ventured back to his market. Two hours later, and he became aware that he was being followed. Turning on his shadow, there was the cat once more - and she would not be shooed away. Sensing that some sort of loyalty and allegiance had been formed, Severus had decided to let her come to Hogwarts with him - and she had become his companion and familiar, similar to Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes.

Mesi, named after the Egyptian word for 'water' and the element most associated with Slytherin house, was allowed to wander the dungeons as she pleased, and was familiar to many of the Slytherin students who either treated her like a regal creature or paid her no heed. She was a graceful creature, well balanced despite her large ears and long tail. When stood on four paws, she reached up to Severus' shins, and although not overly affectionate, she had been known to brush against his legs when he had been gone for some time. Her colouring was bronze, and was slightly rarer than the usual silver of her breed - black spots were present amongst the sand coloured fur, and her tail was striped slightly to contrast. Her eyes were hazel, almost hawk-like, but green in particular lights. Severus was very fond of Mesi - she was quiet, yet intelligent and quick to learn. When Severus was brewing, she knew to stay out of the way, entertaining herself. When her owner decided to sit by the fire with a book, she would sit on the arm of the chair and simply contemplate silently. In the coldest of winter, she was allowed to nestle on the pillow next to him - and when he was particularly miserable or tired, she would leap onto his lap and the warmth would comfort him.

He continued to stroke her head, taking another sip of the whiskey, "The werewolf was good for nothing. He could not even teach the students how to recognise a werewolf even when they were staring one in the face! " He drew his hand away from Mesi and pressed it to his forehead with a wince, "Should never have been allowed into the school."

Mesi mewled at him in response, and he glanced her, "No, I am not feeling any remorse for the creature - and do not look at me like that - you remind me of Albus." He turned his head away and stared at the flames instead. "The Headmaster has not looked at me all day." He groaned, "Why won't this headache go away?" Mesi pressed her nose against his arm and he rewarded her with a smile, and he saw a flash of her sharp teeth. Kneazles were slightly notorious for their foul tempers, and although Mesi was placid enough due to her cat tendencies, when affronted she could be dangerous. If someone endangered Severus, too, like that creature that night in the forest, she was almost deadly. "Maybe a Pain-Relieving potion would help..." He stood to find said potion, when a note suddenly rustled on the desk, indicating its sudden appearance.

Severus crossed to the desk and picked up the parchment, recognising the handwriting and muttering something incoherent under his breath. "Albus. Let's see, shall we?"

_Professor Snape,_

_I wish to see you in my office._

_Headmaster Dumbledore._

"Ah. Use of titles and surnames - reminds me of when I was in trouble at home -" He broke off as words echoed in his mind, accompanied with the pain, and was only brought back when Mesi miaowed something and broke his recollection. "Well, he can come to find me - if he is going to reprimand and fire me, I would rather it was done in my office." He threw the note into the fire and went back to the chair, closing his eyes and letting himself near dozing off.

* * *

><p>He was sharply disturbed when there was a loud knock at the door, and although he did not wish to open it, Headmaster Dumbledore came through anyway, closing the door and standing, arms folded, opposite Severus. "Did you receive my invitation?"<p>

Standing up, Severus nodded, "I did, but I was tending to my head injury and must have fallen asleep." He was not going to apologise - Albus had not once asked about his head, and that irritated Severus more than he would have expected.

Albus simply looked at him for a long moment, "Indeed." There was a harsh silence. "It will please you to know that Remus left this afternoon - chased out of the school by harsh rumours concerning his condition - he preferred to leave with some dignity, rather than after the letters arrive from parents."

Severus pretended not to be interested in these words, preferring to watch Mesi stalk from the room to the adjoining bedroom, almost smiling at the look his feline companion cast the Headmaster. "Is that so?"

"I am very disappointed in you, Severus. I thought you were better than that - turning on someone who truly needed your help." Albus' tone was sharp, like the edge of a knife.

Severus looked up, "He was helping Black - as I told you at the start of the year - and he was doing so before Black could convince him of his innocence - so he was willing to help a _murderer_. I do not think he should be allowed to teach in a school where there are vulnerable students."

"Sirius Black was not a murderer, Severus. It was Peter Pettigrew - not Sirius." Albus replied.

"Oh - but of course it was Pettigrew - you never liked Pettigrew, did you, Headmaster? You saw him as a letdown to your precious house, just because he begged the house to let him be in Gryffindor with the rest of his friends - so you prefer to blame him rather than Black, because at least it cleanses the name of one of you precious Marauders - at the expense of another." He paused and looked the Headmaster up and down with barely restrained anger, "But then again - you did that before - in my sixth year."

"And so we are back to this, again." Albus whispered. "You truly do hold a grudge."

"Sirius Black tried to _kill_ me, and you were too blinded to see it - I hold no allegiance with him - and I would just like to add, _Headmaster_, that I went after Lupin last night to try to give him his potion to ensure he was not a danger to himself or others - I went after Potter when I found he was most likely in danger - and yet you seem reluctant to give any credit for that."

"Really? Or were you simply hoping to catch Remus and Sirius out, so you could have the glory of their capture - just as when you were sixteen? You always were far too curious, Severus."

Severus turned away. "Did you come to reprimand or lecture me, Headmaster?"

"I am so angry with you, Severus, I could insist you leave Hogwarts tonight, just like poor Remus has had to do - although he has committed no crime, whereas you..."

His head was starting to pound, and he wished Albus would simply shout at him and leave. He whirled to face the Headmaster, "Whereas I...what? I am a Death-Eater? Well, perhaps you should have considered that when you _begged _me to teach here thirteen years ago."

"I seem to recall, Severus, that it was you on your knees before me."

"No! I was begging for the life of Lily Potter and her son - and even her good-for-nothing husband - but it was you that asked me to teach at Hogwarts, you who would not take no for an answer, you who blackmailed me with promises of safety and protection and most of all, redemption from the past - and yet - nothing has changed. _You _have not changed! I see through your manipulation, Dumbledore - you still see me as a Slytherin with no prospects, no future, which is why you sought to imprison me here." He paused, mid rant, not allowing himself to focus on Dumbledore's face because the haze of red would not clear, "You thought it would make you seem so good, and wise, and powerful in front of the Ministry if you could reform a Death-Eater who was nothing more than scum - a project, a source of goodwill - but it has backfired, Dumbledore. At least now, it is one of your golden Gryffindors who is out in the dark, cast out for society to frown upon, rather than a Slytherin who had never done anything wrong - who was simply the victim of _old prejudices_."

Albus was simply staring at him. "Do you think I should perceive you differently, now, Severus? It is clear to me that you still cling to the past - you cannot see past old grudges -"

"Have I not done enough? Staying here against my will and under your hand, severing all connections with my past, to prove to you that I have tried? You continue to tie me to that past when you continue to see me as nothing more than a Slytherin!" Severus spat.

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. "You are incorrect with your assumptions. I see you as nothing more than a Death-Eater who deserves such imprisonment - and you have proved that to me when you have condemned an innocent man to being an outcast and ostracised from society. You will remain at Hogwarts because I have a duty to your custody, as agreed with the Ministry thirteen years ago - however - know this, Severus, I am extremely disappointed and angry. I am unable to punish you in any other way besides that."

"You think I care about your approval? You think I desire it?"

"No, Severus. I think you _crave _it above anything else."

"I do not care about your opinion of me, Dumbledore! I could not give a shit about what you think of me."

"I would rather such language was not used in my presence, Severus."

"Do not treat me like a child! I am not your son, or your prisoner, and thus you shall not treat me in such a way!"

"I would not even consider you possibly related to me, Severus - and you are certainly not my prisoner, for should you be sent to Azkaban you would be submitted to the Dementor's Kiss which you so gaily tormented Sirius with last night. You seem to forget that you were once facing that very fate, and it was me that ensured you were rescued. You owe me more than just your life, Severus - you owe me your very soul - and that means you will follow my command."

"I will not allow you to degrade me in such a way - I am no one's property - especially not yours!"

"You can continue to argue with me, Severus, if you so wish - but the facts remain the same - when you killed Lily and James with your wayward words and your desire for revenge, you sacrificed your soul and left it in my hands." Albus' eyes were hard and flashing with blue fires.

"You forget something, Dumbledore. It was not me that killed Lily and your precious Potter - it was you and your failure to protect them and change their Secret Keeper - not me."

Dumbledore did something quite unpredictable, then. He raised one hand and gripped Severus' collar, pushing him back against the wall. Severus flinched, not used to physical violence from the older wizard, who had clearly been pushed beyond the realms of any control. "Listen to me, very carefully, Severus. You are correct - I keep you close because I do not trust you and I believe you will betray me again - you have shown that your loyalty to me is not more important than your past because you have hurt a dear friend of mine, and you will face the consequences in time. You remain at Hogwarts not because I feel any pity for you or compassion, or mercy - but because it is the best place for you, so you can be reminded of your own crimes and will pay recompense for them in time. You will spy for me should Lord Voldemort return, and that satisfies me enough to give you a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in, and food for your ungrateful body - "

"Why? Because I am not yet submissive enough to take your every order? Is that what you would prefer? You would prefer me to be your servant?" Severus couldn't deny that he was hurt - he had always assumed the Headmaster had seen something worth seeing - and he was starting to become unsettled - he wished Dumbledore would step out of his personal space, but it seemed to be a deliberate offence by the Headmaster.

"You disappoint me. We have a week of staff training - I do not wish to hear you, and if you must share my presence, please do so without intruding. You had an ally, Severus, someone who was willing to stand beside you - but not any more." He let go of Severus' collar and pushed him away, "You will never be as important as James Potter, Severus - you could never be as bright as he - because of what you have done in your past. I thought, perhaps, with Remus, you could start to understand - he needed your help, was willing to slight his own dignity to ask it from you, willing to place his life in the hands of someone with whom he shares animosity and hatred - and you betrayed that. You betrayed that trust. He was at your mercy, Severus. You could have helped him, and you could have saved him. But you could not see past your own prejudices and jealousy and hatred to prove to me that you are a better person - or even to prove to those around you that you have truly changed - unfortunately, we were wrong. I was wrong. Quite simply, you disgust me." He stepped away from Severus, toward the door, "I have asked the Ministry to strip you of any honours they were planning to deliver - I have simply reminded them of what you had done in your past, and they were quick to relent. I imagine some Aurors may be dropping by in the near future, to check that you have indeed not made connections with the 'good old days'. An Order of Merlin, indeed. Look at yourself, Severus. I think you need it. Good night." With that, Dumbledore was gone, leaving Severus staring after him.

Something akin to rage but much more inhuman gripped his muscles and he threw the bottle of whiskey at the wall after Dumbledore with a cry, "You bastard, Dumbledore!" He slumped down against the wall, feeling no more than sixteen years old and belittled once more by a man who had no right - but also by a man whose opinion of him really, truly mattered.

And his words had struck home. Severus had been cruel.

"I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

**Tricks of the Mind**

_In answer to your question, my dear SpencerReid. Yes. I can update this today._

_~ SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

"All I ever wanted was him to love me."

He had done everything he had ever asked - whether it was cleaning the floors with dangerous chemicals or dusting the top shelf even when he was too small or staying silent in his room for many days just to make sure he did not get a headache. He was always trying, tripping over himself and his eagerness to make him proud, never flinching when the hand was raised to strike him - he just wanted to make him happy. He just wanted his father to love him, to see him for what he truly was, to see that he was worth something. As the years had passed, that desire and hunger had turned to something that was much less passionate - just simple acceptance. Acceptance that he, small and thin and ugly, would never be worth anything in his father's eyes. His ambition to be the greatest Potions' Master the world had seen - yes, that was something worthy to his mother - but never to the man Severus had only ever wanted to see smile, hear pride, or even an arm around his shoulders and fingers squeezing his arm.

Gryffindor or Slytherin? How could he have known, back then, that his decision would be so important to his future? He was eleven years old, he knew nothing of Hogwarts or the Houses, and all he knew was that he did not want to be in the same place as those boys who had knocked into him on the train and laughed at his nose. So when the Sorting Hat had whispered that question to him, he had thought of the green and the silver and the serpent, and his wish was granted - he was placed in the house of the snake, where the cunning and the ambitious dwelt - and never would he question why the Hat had found him so difficult to place.

He had settled into Slytherin - an outcast - clever and hardworking and very happy to be alone. He sent letters to his mother once a week but received responses only once a month, until finally he stopped altogether. He was stronger than that - he withdrew slightly - forgetting to monitor his personal hygiene because of his endless studying, allowing his hair to become sticky and heavy so he could continue to pursue that particular dark curse - how to create his own spells - the potion that could guarantee truth telling - he ignored the patches of stains on his robes and was happy to wander the halls of his sanctuary reading a book, nose pressed close to the page because his eyesight was not good after so many years reading by candlelight.

His sanctuary, shattered, by those who bore the noble emblem of Godric Gryffindor and the King of all Beasts, the red and the gold that had filled his mind on his arrival and had been rejected for colder colours. Four boys who, in their own unique ways, ripped self-confidence and self-worth and self-belief from a boy who had so little to believe in, but was naive enough to do so anyway. Childish pranks became terrible violence as he started to retaliate, relying on his anger and his hate and his fear - and he ended up in front of Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster leaned forward and rested his chin on top of steepled fingers, blue eyes staring at Severus over the top of gold spectacles, as Severus tried to explain what had happened - what they were doing to him - wanting to tell him that he was worth more than this, that he couldn't stand the way they treated him - everything a thirteen year old boy would think - and he was so close - but the Headmaster had simply placed him in detention with Filch that night and had not listened to him.

This happened time and time again until Severus simply realised it was simply favoritism - that Dumbledore preferred the handsome and talented Gryffindors over the unsightly and dark Slytherin. He withdrew further. He hid. He shied away. He would not answer questions. He would not hand in essays on time. Professors pestered him. He spent his days in the library. He was out after curfew. He was in detention constantly. He lost points for his house. He was banned from the library. They found his collection of dark books and took them from him too.

His mother died. He went to her funeral. No one asked after his absence. His father glared at him across the hole in the ground and would not put an arm around him even when he tried not to cry. He stared at the gravestone for a long time after that. He stared at all that remained of his mother.

His father moved away and did not tell Severus where he had gone. He returned home for Christmas that year, and turned fifteen, and did not tell anyone that he was living in an empty house with no one to comfort him.

Whisperings of a Dark Lord who guaranteed power. Peers slipping out in the dead of night and returning, clutching their left arms but with some expression of hypnosis in their eyes. He watched and he listened and he observed - but he did not go.

The Shrieking Shack. The werewolf. The teeth. The claws. The howling. The fear in his chest and the taste of blood at the back of his mouth and the heart that pounded violently against his ribcage - the expression of acceptance on that wizened face as he politely listened to Severus' story - yet still simply dismissed it as childish and pubescent behavior - and he was told to keep his peace about the werewolf.

He cut himself that night, just to feel the pain, but also to see the blood and pretend it was someone else's. And he went to the Dark Lord himself, uninvited, and he presented himself, and the Dark Lord liked him because he saw something familiar, and he finally found someone who might be willing to be a father, a mentor, a paternal figure - and he guided him, and he helped him, and he developed him, and he protected him, and he left Hogwarts with his head held high and his qualifications reflecting his true talent.

All too soon, the Dark Lord was gone, and he was back before Dumbledore and those blue eyes and those gold spectacles and he was on his knees because he did not want to go to Azkaban, he did not want to be imprisoned with the Dementors, and Dumbledore stood and crossed to him - and picked him up from the ground - and murmured promises of hope and protection and redemption and he believed him because he had nothing else.

He had tried so hard - he had done everything he could - learnt everything and tried to teach everything and he had never answered back, not until Harry Potter had entered his class and he saw a repeat of the past, when Dumbledore started to trust Harry over Severus and started to punish Severus for his actions.

He was just being used.

But he was tired now. He was tired of fighting for someone's affection. He was tired of presenting himself and baring his soul. He wouldn't bother the Headmaster any longer. He wouldn't be in his way. He would keep to himself, return to his studying, because he did not want to let him down.

He had never wanted to let anyone down.

"All I ever wanted was him to love me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Tricks of the Mind**

_A short chapter tonight as I have been working hard I am afraid, but I like to keep my promises to my readers! I will answer my PMs tomorrow - please bear with me until then!_

_~ SS19_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

He awoke to the feeling of something nuzzling against his arm - groaning, he turned over and his head collided with solid concrete and he whispered an expletive under his breath. Why was there concrete in his bed? His eyes drifted open and he glanced to one side, seeing the wall and the floor. Blinking and shaking himself conscious, he realised with a slight feeling of annoyance that he had fallen asleep on the floor. Fallen sleep or passed out, one or the other, he considered as he stood and glanced at his face in the windowpane. The cut above his head was starting to heal, he mused, examining it gingerly with his fingers, but it was still sore. He should have had it looked like. He turned away from the window and faced the door, wondering what the time was - there were glass shards littering the floor and the stains of the Firewhiskey. Mesi was sat beside them, looking at him in almost an affronted manner. He narrowed his eyes at her, "Don't you start. I am not in the mood." He sighed, sitting down in his armchair and remembering in perfect clarity the harsh words of Headmaster Dumbledore from the night before. Why did it have to be a week of staff training? He would much prefer to go hide in his cottage and read a book and pretend he did not exist for six weeks, and return when most people had forgotten about what had happened. But no. He would have to stay with the other members of staff, and more worrying Dumbledore, and put up with their sarcastic comments and their glares and know that there was no one willing to defend him because no one was ever willing to defend him. Finally finding the strength to look at the clock, he winced when he realised he had overslept by at least an hour and was now close to running late. Pulling himself together he changed his shirt and threw on his black robes, tightening the collar until it rubbed against the front of his throat, trying to tame his hair with his hands and moving some of the black strands so they covered most of the wound on his forehead. He reached down and brushed the back of his hand across Mesi's head. "I'll see you later." He would not be able to eat, even if he tried, and instead headed for the door and out into the corridor.

Hogwarts was always very different when the students were away - even the dungeons seemed silent and undisturbed, with his Slytherins away. There was a moment when he missed his students - just the Slytherin students - because he was protective of them and he had grown to care for many of them. They were, in some ways, like his children - they relied upon him to steer them in the right directions, to mentor them when they needed it most, and to be their parents when they needed one and did not have anywhere else to turn. They reminded him of himself when he was a child, desperately needing guidance - and he would give it to them. He would always provide it to them. He passed the common room and headed up the stairs towards the staffroom, glancing at the portraits that smiled at him and offered welcome - how very ironic that the only people that would acknowledge him were painted dead people. He supposed that was his due. He took in a deep breath and entered the staffroom.

There was sudden silence. Not silence as though it had been like that for some time - sudden, deliberate silence as all eyes turned to him and he realised that they could only have been talking about him. He straightened his back and lifted his head to show that their silence and their thoughts and their glares did not affect him in any way. He had coped on his own before - it was how he had survived - he would be fine. He did not need anyone. He looked around but could see no chairs. How could there be no chairs - there were always enough chairs. He fidgeted with his fingers until he realised that made him seem nervous, and instead headed further into the staffroom, crossing to the other side of the room. People - his colleagues, he had once considered them his friends - watched him and when he glanced at their eyes he saw only hard irises in return. He leaned against the wall, staring obstinately at them until they turned away.

Albus came in and smiled genially at his members of staff. He laughed with them, he joked with them, he made clever comments and he addressed them all with the aims for today's training session, to go through results and to plan new curriculm for the next year.

And not once. Not during the laughs or the jokes or the comments or the speech, did he glance at Severus.

Not once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tricks of the Mind**

_Another update as I felt mean for yesterday and I feel terrible today - so instead of taking abuse out on other people, I thought…Severus, maybe? There is a nod in this chapter to all those who wished Severus would just pack his bags and leave. Maybe he will just pack his bags and leave. What would happen then? … I wonder…_

_As always, dedicated to SpencerReid - hope this makes up for yesterday *cheesy smile*_

_~ SS19_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>

There was a strange mark on his arm which he was scrutinising. It was a slight reddening of his skin in a heptagonal shape. He pressed the nail of his index finger just under this abnormality and moved the skin, bemused when the mark disappeared and was replaced with a cruel groove formed by his nail. Taking his finger away, the mark reappeared, and he scratched it until the skin was very red indeed and it had started to sting. He rested his hand in his lap, under his external cloak to hide it, to cease being distracted, and focused his attention back on the meeting. This was day three of the staff training week, and he was now sitting in the staffroom, having been particularly determined to get there first. The attitudes of some of his colleagues had warmed to him slightly, and he had been treated to a smile by Pomona when she had noticed him earlier on that day. He had ignored her - what did they think, he was just going to crumble because one of them smiled at him? He did not need any of them. Today would be harder though, because he would be expected to talk about his curriculum and the changes he wished to make to his lessons, and the rest of the staff would have to agree. So far, some of the teachers had spoken and although he felt he should comment, he had not. He had kept his biting, sarcastic remarks to himself because Albus didn't approve of them and he did not wish to irritate the older wizard any more. He had sat and listened and stayed silent, and there were even pauses where it seemed the other teachers expected him to comment - but he didn't. Instead, he became interested in the skin of his left hand - and the itching that had started underneath his left forearm. Last night had been particularly bad - and he couldn't fight the feeling that something was returning. The itching had been bearable until last night, when it had seemed as though he had a terrible rash on his skin that simply needing removing - but the relieving salve he had poured onto the white skin seemed only to aggravate it further. He had lain in bed trying to keep the inflamed skin away from the scratchy blankets and reminding himself that he should not relieve the annoyance by scraping his nails across the skin. It was the Dark Mark, and the Dark Mark did not respond well to any form of abuse - he knew that well from his virgin Death-Eater days. But he needed some sort of reassurance - he wanted to be able to confide in Albus - to tell him that his arm was sore, and that he was…afraid…that the past would repeat itself but the flames and the blood and the ash would be so much more powerful and it would consume every living soul - everything - he tore his hand away from his arm once again and tried to focus on the conversation.

"That just leaves us with Potions." Albus said, and his voice had gained that unmistakeable disinterested tone that Severus had learnt was worse than any censure or raised voice. He cleared his throat and realised he was uncharacteristically nervous - he was never nervous - "I do not have many changes to make - but - I was thinking that introducing the Ageing Potion would be more appropriate in the fifth year rather than the sixth year to prepare the students better for their OWLs. I also believe that the curriculum does not cover enough healing potions - assuming the students listen in their first year and remember to use a Beazoar is a tall order - so I plan to change the fourth year syllabus accordingly." He paused. "That's everything." Never had he felt quite so scrutinised - not even when he was the Dark Lord's favourite and spent much of his time being examined and watched and plotted against - he felt alien here, as if he truly did not belong - and the instinct to flee was becoming too strong to ignore. He had spent much of the examination weeks planning the changes to the subject, and normally he would have been happy to go on at great length about the moronity of the course and why it had clearly been designed without his subtle art at the centre, and then there would normally be some comment about how he wished to become Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, just for Albus' amusement - but instead, he was happy with his two sentences and seated himself accordingly, focusing on his hand once again. The slight red bruise remained and it was beginning to infuriate him - was it a burn?

The meeting came to a swift close. Poppy Pomfrey ventured over to Severus, "Severus. I was wondering - you have not yet stocked my Potions cupboard - did you receive my list?"

He looked up at her, "I did - I have not been brewing - I will do them later this week. Sorry for any inconvenience." He stood abruptly, sweeping toward the door - just as Albus did too. Normally there would have been some lighthearted exchange, a glimpse of a relationship that had flourished over ten years from near enemies to close friends - some comment by Severus about age and some comment from Albus referring to Severus' lack of manners - instead - Severus just took a step back and cast his eyes down to the floor, allowing Albus to pass. And Albus didn't even glance at him. Severus paused for a moment and nothing more before leaving the staffroom too.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the staffroom after that. Minerva cleared her throat awkwardly to break it, glancing at Poppy and Pomona who were watching the doorway with interest. "You were right, then, Poppy. Albus must have said something."

Poppy nodded, "He said he had not been brewing - can you remember a time when Severus has not brewed - I seem to recall that when he is in one of his 'phases' it's all he seems to do." She shook her head concernedly, "I realise that what he did was slightly immoral but - I have not seen him like this since he was a student and withstanding the abusive ways of his father."

"It's submissive behaviour," Pomona murmured, "He's unwilling to incite Albus' anger any more so he is being passive - that has got to be the only answer."

"He deserves it." Minerva murmured, "He had no right to reveal Remus' secret."

"Minerva!" Pomona admonished, "No matter how much Severus is in the wrong, Remus was too - he went after Sirius Black when he did not know him to be innocent, and he endangered the lives of the students by not taking his potion - " She stared at her longtime friend and colleague, "If you could put your wonderful Gryffindor pride aside for just one moment, you might see that Severus was in the right up until he released Remus' secret - and even then, perhaps he felt as though he should." Her voice was lighthearted but held a serious point. Minerva nodded, "I accept what you are saying - but I don't think Albus does. I have never seen him this angry about anything."

* * *

><p>Severus closed the door to his quarters and looked around them with a critical eye. He looked at the dull and dreary decoration, the cold stone floor, the cluttered desk, the dark windows, the lack of any comfort or warmth and a hearth that was barely ever lit. He looked around at the room that should have been his home, his home for ten years, and yet it still seemed like a guest room. He wandered across the slabs, looking into his private bedroom and eyeing with distaste the black blankets that irritated his sensitive skin and the black robes that were too tight for him, lying across the chair. He was looking for something - anything - that might have suggested he lived there. But there was nothing. The bathroom had his razor by the mirror even though he could have used his wand and his toothbrush but still - they were generic items. Why were there no portraits on the wall, no rugs upon the floor, no personal books along the shelves, no photographs on his desk, no personal affects that showed that once upon a time he had been a person - a child, even! But that was because Hogwarts had never been a home to him - it had been a place, a place where he worked and he lived but did not enjoy - a place where he had no support, no friends, nothing worth staying for.<p>

He stopped mid thought. Nothing worth staying for? Was that true? But as he thought it through further, he wanted to know why he had chosen to stay at Hogwarts at all - it had been an escape for him, somewhere to stay and atone for his sins, but ten years later and he was still no closer to atoning or redeeming than he had been when he had been in front of the Ministry. But he had no links, no ties to this prison - it was just a holding space - he had never wanted to be a teacher, it was a fate that had been forced upon him - and he would not stand it any longer. He wanted to get out of this school, this country, fly somewhere else, start a new life, brew his potions in peace and live out his days in a small house by the sea where he could put portraits on the wall and not feel false or fake or artificial. He could find someone - anyone - he crossed back into the bedroom and pulled the box out from underneath the piece of furniture. A small, cardboard box with some pieces he had kept - he opened the red and gold book and glared at the terrible Muggle photograph of himself taken sixteen years before - but it would do. It would do, and there was paperwork here, and he could fly away - he could get away from all of this.

Was he really doing this? Yes. He was. He was leaving Hogwarts, and he did not plan to return.

He whirled and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a worn and battered suitcase and throwing it open, folding a spare pair of robes and placing them neatly inside. He glanced at his many books and realised he would not be able to take them all - but he could choose those that were most important to him - the one about the first Potions Master who had ever lived, a biography of his achievements and his methods - but as he opened the front cover and read the inscription about his thirtieth birthday written in that narrow handwriting he knew so well - he shoved it back onto the bookcase and turned away. Every book had been contributed to him and he wondered now if it had been bribery to keep him in his office, because give him a good book and he could be lost for hours. Perhaps it had all been a ploy to make him stay because his thirst for knowledge outstripped his allegiances to days gone by. The books would stay. He could replace them. He dragged the suitcase into the main room and pulled his chess set out from the drawers, a present from Lucius, someone he had been close to and forced to tear away from based on Albus' 'recommendations' which he now considered had been nothing more than an order. Slowly, Albus had disconnected him from everything he called home - the Dark Lord, Lucius, the Death-Eaters, Spinner's End - and had kept him here as a willing and submitting prisoner. He could find someone else to teach the dunderheads Potions. Severus was no longer bound by duty. "Mesi." He called, throwing a few more meaningless objects into the suitcase to convince himself he was not a ghost. His pet padded into the room from the window seat, looking affronted at being awoken, and he smiled at her, "We're going."

She seemed to tilt her head at him, feline eyes examining him, "We are going - away from here - a new home. A new start. That would be good. Let me just write my resignation - we'll leave it for him." He coaxed her to sit on top of the sealed suitcase, "I'll get your basket in a moment." His quill and ink remained and he scribbled on a piece of parchment,

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_Please find my resignation, effective immediately, enclosed in this letter. I thank you for my time here at Hogwarts._

_Kind regards,_

_Severus Snape._

He finished the writing with a flourish and sealed the parchment, leaving it on his desk. He stood in the centre of his room once again and looked around. Was this really it? But he could not stay. He did not wish to stay where he was not wanted - he wanted to be out of the way - to be alone - where the Dark Lord could not find him should he choose to return - it was finished. He picked Mesi up and placed her in the basket he had carried her home from Egypt in, checking she was comfortable with the blanket, and then picked up his suitcase and fastened his travelling his robe. He looked back only once at the room, carrying his life in one normal sized suitcase and realising that he had very little to show for the past thirteen years.

Even the past twenty years.

* * *

><p>He had made it halfway across the Entrance Hall when he had to stop to examine Mesi, who was mewling pitifully. That was most unlike his cat, who was about as noble as Severus. "Mesi? What is the matter?" He leaned forward and his arm spasmed uncomfortably, forcing him to wince, "Damn it." He swore beneath his breath, looking into the basket and seeing that Mesi' tail was trapped against the caging that was protecting her. "Oh, Mesi. Why must you always place yourself in the most difficult spots, hmm?" He murmured affectionately, knowing that she reflected him in more than one way. He righted his cat and picked up his suitcase once again.<p>

"Going somewhere?"

He froze. He had not wanted to be caught. Not by him. He stiffened his muscles and turned to face Albus Dumbledore, "I'm leaving. I resign."

Albus Dumbledore was stood on the stairs, watching him, face impassive and eyes hard, "Is that so?"

"You treat me like dirt - I saved some of your students' lives with that damned werewolf and placed myself face to face with the creature that attempted to murder me in my sixth year - you seem to not understand, Headmaster, that I am a Slytherin and I refuse to stay here. My resignation letter is on my desk. I bid you good day." He started to turn away.

"And you think you can just leave? You think that is a possibility for you, Severus?" Albus murmured softly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" _Just walk away, Severus_, he tried to discipline himself, _don't listen to him, he will only make you angry…_

"You think you can walk out into the night and disappear? Is that what you believe will happen? You believe I would allow that to happen?"

Severus looked back, "Allow? I am not your prisoner."

A pause, in which Severus started for the door again. "Well, actually, Severus." Albus interrupted him again, "I did barter for your freedom and the Ministry released you into my custody until I felt you had redeemed yourself for your previous crimes. You did submit to that."

"I would not submit to anything that restricted my freedom in such a way - " Of that, Severus was sure.

Albus was holding a piece of parchment, "You do not remember this, then?" He threw the parchment toward Severus, who bent to pick it up. It was a magical contract. He saw his name, becoming the charge of custodian and guardian Albus Dumbledore. He stared at his signature, "I did not sign this - " He read the conditions, that he was to stay where Albus Dumbledore saw fit, that Albus Dumbledore was to have control over his free time, that Albus Dumbledore was allowed to do whatever he so wished to Severus - "I would never sign this!"

Albus seemed to be contemplating something, "I suppose you wouldn't remember - you were not exactly in your right mind, that Halloween. I think your failures affected you."

Severus started to interrupt - he must have been forced - he would never do this - this was not real - he had been tricked...

"Nevertheless, you signed it - and it stands - Severus, you are practically my property, much as I dislike the term - and you cannot leave this school without me releasing you, which with Lord Voldemort's return imminent, I do not feel inclined to do so at the present time. Also - you will be staying with me in Lilac Cottage this holiday. I think, perhaps, you need to reconsider your position."

"And what if I were to leave?"

"You could try - you would not get far - unless you wish to end up in Azkaban once more - the Ministry would find you. This is the better scenario, Severus…"

Severus shook his head, "No. You cannot keep me here against my will."

"Quite simply, Severus - yes, I can. And I am, more to the point. You have not redeemed yourself for your faults, and thus, you will be staying with me. Lilac Cottage will be good for you - some fresh air may help you to regain your usual perspective. Now." He raised his wand and waved it at Severus, vanishing his suitcase and Mesi, "I suggest you go back to your quarters and have a lie down - your face is very pale and there is a nasty cut on your forehead. Shouldn't someone have looked at it by now?" His tone was light and patronising as he turned and left Severus standing in the Entrance Hall, trembling with some sort of terrible rage. He crossed the Hall again and ventured back into his dungeons, screwing the parchment up and throwing it into the hearth, lighting the flames so they burnt brightly and tall. The room with the lack of portraits and the lack of carpet and the lack of character...

There was smoke rising from his desk - the letter he had written was nothing more than a pile of ash - he crossed into his bedroom and lay flat on the bed on his back, staring at the canopy above him - and as he did so, he felt parchment brush against his clenched fist and he looked down to see the newly replicated contract with his signature glaring back at him.

A magical contract that would bind him to Albus Dumbledore until the other saw fit to release him. He rolled over onto his front and for the first time in so many years, felt lost. Completely lost.


	6. Chapter 6

**Tricks of the Mind**

_Glad everyone hates Dumbledore. I hate him too. Bad Dumbledore. He needs a spanking._

_Er. That's not quite what I meant. *Bad images….*_

_~ SS19_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>

Severus was picking his way through breakfast, some rather unappetising soggy cornflakes and a glass of pumpkin juice. He didn't actually _like _pumpkin juice, now he thought about it. He was well aware he was being watched by Dumbledore, too.

"Eat up, Severus - I want to be gone by eleven o clock."

He bit back a response and instead took a spoonful of the cornflakes, almost grimacing at their taste in his mouth. Albus' comments had attracted attention from the other members of staff, "Are you going somewhere, Albus?"

Albus looked up, "Oh, yes. Severus and I are going to spend a few weeks at Lilac Cottage - Minerva, you remember, I was telling you about it? It's on the coast, you know, so you can hear the sea. I think I might need a break - and Severus certainly has had a difficult year."

Minerva nodded, "That's great - it is certainly good to see you two talking again - we thought perhaps you had argued."

"Oh, Minerva. Severus and I do not argue. Our…relationship means far too much to him. Yes, we will be having a short break together in my cottage - it should do us both the world of good - now, Severus, you ought to go pack - I do want to be there by this afternoon."

Severus nodded, forced a smile and put his spoon down. He stood, pushing back the chair, and leaving the Hall. Albus watched him go, narrowing his eyes slightly. Minerva glanced between the departing Severus and Albus, "Are you sure he is quite all right, Albus?"

"Well, we did exchange some words about what happened, Minerva - but Severus has since apologised for his actions and I am sure he is genuine. I think he feels true remorse for what he did to Remus. He knows it was wrong."

Minerva nodded slowly, "But - do you not think he is acting a little out of character?"

Albus shook his head after seeming to think about this for a long moment, "I think he is tired, Minerva. He has had a lot to deal with after all - he will be fine after he gets some rest. If you will excuse me, my dear, I must go - I hope you have a wonderful holiday."

"You too, Albus. Look after him, won't you?"

"Of course, my dear. I always look after Severus."

* * *

><p>Severus was fuming. He was trying not to show it, but he was fuming. His cheeks were burning and he had never felt quite so humiliated in his life. Here he was, in his rooms, with his hands clasped behind him like he was being inspected by his father, watching Albus Dumbledore going through his only just packed suitcase and considering his choices of reading material. Albus looked up at him, "I think some of these are a little too provocative, don't you, Severus?<p>

"You cannot control my reading material too, Headmaster." His voice was forcibly calm and controlled. "You are forcing me to stay with you - I will read what I wish."

"Not if I think it might tempt you back into your old ways, Severus."

"I am not a child, Dumbledore." Severus shot back, fists clenching into balls by his side.

"You need to learn to control your temper better, Severus. Now, let me see. Let's put these back." He turned to examine the bookshelves, "I think some nice simple brewing exercises would help you to calm your mind, don't you agree, Severus? I do this only to help you, you know that." He put the books into the suitcase and then closed it. "Very well - now I think we are ready to leave."

Severus hung back, "I need to get Mesi."

"That creature is not coming with us." Albus replied, "It can stay here in the castle."

"No, she cannot." Severus responded. "She stays with me."

Albus folded his arms over his chest and stared at Severus until the other looked away, down at the ground, "Go on, then, Severus. Ask me."

Severus would not look at him. "Please, Headmaster - let her come."

Albus seemed to consider him. "Very well. Now. Come along."

Severus nodded once, then, feeling like a prisoner being escorted to Azkaban, followed Dumbledore from his office.

* * *

><p><em>And…I ran out of time tonight! Update early this week to make up for it! I sense an explosion - and I predict a riot….<em>


	7. Chapter 7

**Tricks of the Mind**

_Look what I have here. *Fingers notebook* It is a fully written and planned plot for Tricks of the Mind - which means I can finally finish it! Cue wild applause and cheering yay!_

_Merry Christmas, SpencerReid, and an apology it has taken this long - this story challenges me more than my others. Evil Albus…_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Dumbledore's cottage was quite a legend amongst the staff of Hogwarts School, and Severus supposed it was a dubious honour to be allowed even this close to the fabled house, which very few members of staff had seen. Lilac Cottage was constructed from purplestone, a brick that contained magical properties and allowed there to be more rooms inside than the physical structure suggested. The cottage could also be moved at the whims and wills of Albus, depending on where he wanted to be. This time, the cottage was situated on a windy part of the South coast, somewhere that Severus had little experience.

Delightfully innocuous and innocent, Severus could hear Mesi purring with unrestrained interest as her hazel eyes inspected the garden that was rather disproportionate to the small house. He hushed his familiar with a quick exhalation of breath - he needed Mesi on his side, at least. Mesi received the message loud and clear and silenced herself, and Severus tried not to glare darkly at the Headmaster as Dumbledore pulled out a ring of keys and looked for the one to his cottage. Severus glanced up to the sky, examining the clouds which were rather thunderous and he wondered if a storm was headed in their direction. That would not surprise him, considering his current mood.

Dumbledore unlocked the door and stepped aside for Severus to enter first, hardly meeting Severus' eyes. Severus and he had not exchanged a word since they left Hogwarts, Severus content to steam in silence because that suited him best. He stood in the hallway to this unfamiliar house, not content to put his bag down or Mesi, for that matter. The decoration and furniture in the hallway alone clearly demonstrated that this was a home for Dumbledore - the bright wallpaper that burnt his minimalistic eyes, the patterned carpet, the clashing chairs and the several differently coloured cloaks hanging from a cloakstand by the door. He shifted position, feeling perhaps more uncomfortable than he did at Hogwarts. Dumbledore examined the hallway himself, "Home, sweet home." He quoted softly, "Up the stairs and on the right."

No proper nouns or pronouns, then. Severus clearly was unworthy of having a name. Perhaps he would be referred to as a number, as he had been that one night in Azkaban - he amused himself for a moment as he considered which number he would like to be - before realising that he probably ought to have responded. "Thank you." That was the best he could muster in his distracted state, so he decided on careful and polite submission. Better than causing an argument, after all, for he did not have the strength or energy to even try. He started up the slightly wonky staircase, feeling ill at the pink and green carpet and idly contemplating whether Dumbledore had a problem with his eyesight, before turning to the right. He entered the small bedroom, Mesi finally allowed to leave her cage. She sprang lightly onto the orange carpet, hissed at it, and then looked up at her master. Severus was contemplating the tiny room, some unreadable emotion twisting his expression. Mesi nuzzled his leg, looking for an answer - and Severus looked down at her, shaking his head. "No. This is not happening."

Mesi mewled in response, wishing she was at home in her dungeons. She leapt up onto the bed and then onto Severus' suitcase as the other sat next to her, hands trembling. "He will not treat us like prisoners."

Mesi displayed a rare show of affection and licked Severus' cheek quickly. Severus almost flinched, not used to such movement from his familiar, before he simply stroked her head instead. "We'll find another way, my sweet. We'll find another way." He lifted Mesi into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he stood and moved to the small window overlooking the back garden. Mesi strained against his hold when she saw the many trees that lined the back fence. "I don't think it's a good idea, Mesi. We have no idea what's out there."

She hissed at him in response and he smiled, "You are so like me, Mesi. Come on, then, we can have a look. Promise me you won't leap out of my arms and run off?"

Suitably mollified, she curled closer to his chest and he hummed something tuneless under his breath to sooth as he went back down the stairs and out into the garden. It was uncomfortably warm, and the air was heavy. Mesi perked up immediately, her sensitive hearing picking up the movements of many creatures crawling in the undergrowth. Severus was more entranced by the herb garden underneath the window, containing some ingredients he had not seen since his pay had been reduced, four years before. He drew back when he remembered where he was and finally relented, letting Mesi down to the ground. She stayed near to his heels, feeling as vulnerable as him.

The sun was starting to penetrate the clouds and Severus decided that fresh air was precisely what he needed. He sat down amongst the grass, slightly hidden from the view of the house, back against the fence behind him. Mesi decided that his lap was the best thing she needed, and she clambered onto his thighs before he had a chance to push her off. Her weight and warmth was welcome, though, and he took to fondling her head as she watched him, slightly sleepy now. He was almost comfortable here, and slightly more relaxed. Perhaps, if he could stay here, he wouldn't have to face Dumbledore and as a result, this - period - would be bearable.

He tutted and pulled his sleeve away when he realised Mesi was persistently tugging on a loose thread, "How many times? No wonder all my robes are practically threadbare." He chastised softly, his tone demonstrating that he did not mean it - well, not much, anyway. Comforted as always by Mesi's presence and the small reminder of home, he almost smiled.

"I thought I asked you to go upstairs?"

Mesi was instantly on her feet, before Severus, hackles raised. She was purring beneath her breath in an almost threatening way at Dumbledore, who looked down at the cat with barely veiled dislike, before returning his hard blue eyes to Severus, waiting for a response. Severus called Mesi back to him, before replying, "Well - you didn't use my name, so I suppose the instruction could have been to anyone." He was feeling sarcastic.

Albus smiled - but it wasn't a mirthful smile, it almost reminded Severus of Lord Voldemort. "Very well. You can come in now, then, _Severus_."

Severus, tired of this and Dumbledore, simply shook his head. "I'd rather be outside. Your decor makes me feel ill."

He expected some negative response, but instead Dumbledore only scrutinised him for a moment before saying. "Very well. I suppose animals should sleep outside."

Severus didn't react straight away, thinking he was meaning Mesi - but Dumbledore's eyes had not left his. He did not have a response to that - or if he did, it was too crude to even dirty his lips - and when Albus stalked away, Severus simply stared after him, almost incredulous. "Did he just…"

Mesi could sense there was something very wrong with her master and came close to him once more, nuzzling his hand, lying limp in the grass. He tried to smile at Mesi and she, once more, pounced onto his lap and wrapped her claws into his shirt so they were almost eye to eye. He shook his head, "It's nothing."

But Mesi, intelligent and loyal that she was, simply licked his face once more. It was only a few minutes later when Severus realised she had been wiping away a tear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Tricks of the Mind**

_A note to my beloved excessively_perky - all shall be revealed. *raises eyebrows wickedly*_

_~ SS19_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

He awoke to find Mesi nuzzling his arm and mewling softly. He let his eyes flicker open and straightened his neck. "What…" He was still outside, dozing against the trunk of the tree, the bark making an indentation in the side of his skull. Mesi seemed anxious and when Severus pulled himself together, looking up at the sky, he could see why. Thunderous clouds had gathered, and as he listened, there was a rumbling on the horizon. He glanced toward the house, uncomfortably warm. "Is he still watching us?" Earlier that afternoon, he had spotted the twitching of a curtain and knew he was being observed.

Instead of answering, Mesi hissed. "It's just a storm, Mesi. It will pass." From a climate where the animals hardly saw rain, the water that fell from the sky seemed to unsettle Mesi and she hated the rain. Severus soothed her with his fingers, "I do not want to go inside, particularly." His left arm was itching painfully, the skin flaring angrily. He pulled back his sleeve to glare at his limb, "Stop that. He's dead, has been for years - stop playing tricks with my mind."

Mesi purred again when the thunder crashed - and this time, lightning joined it. That meant it was coming nearer, there was a hardly a gap between the two. But he did not want to sit with Albus either, the older man was worrying Severus and he was not sure just what plans Dumbledore had. But Mesi was frightened.

The clouds opened and heavy droplets of rain started to pound upon the ground. Unable to submit his familiar to any further hurt, he gathered Mesi into his arms and headed for the house as the thunder roared overhead. Shaking water from his hair and robes, he glanced toward the closed living room door and let Mesi down to the floor. "I'm tired, Mesi. I need to sleep. He coaxed her up the stairs, wanting to avoid a confrontation. Dumbledore could wait until the morning.

Shedding his damp outer robes, Severus lowered himself onto the bed and closed the door with his foot - such was the size of the room - looking up at the bright ceiling and feeling his eyes hurt. Still, his arm itched. He rolled onto his side, trapping his left arm beneath him, watching Mesi as she sniffed the room, the walls and the skirting boards, before springing up beside him. "How did we end up here, hmm?" He asked of his cat, who simply licked his nose. That made him smile as he shifted position on the lumpy mattress and tried to punch the pillow into submission. Still uncomfortable he groaned and closed his eyes, feeling Mesi settle beside him. "I wonder how far we are from any other lifeforms, Mesi." He had no knowledge of this area - for all he knew, they could be on a remote cliff and they were miles from anywhere. His consciousness drifted and instead, he dropped away into sleep.

* * *

><p>Awaking as per usual at the crack of dawn, Severus was sat with his back against the wall, reading, when the door opened and Albus entered, carrying a tray. Severus, who had managed two hours sleep, was irritable enough as it was. Startled by the noise, Mesi jumped awake and was instantly on all paws. She bared her teeth at Albus, but the other man ignored her and simply set the tray down. "I thought you might like breakfast." The tone was almost pleasant, and threatened to send Severus back into confusion, when he realised what 'breakfast' was. Porridge - Severus didn't even like it, and as far as he was aware, Albus knew that. "Mesi cannot eat this." He offered. "It makes her ill."<p>

This didn't bother Albus. "Really? That's a shame." He headed toward the door.

Severus had had enough of this charade. "What is happening, here? Why are you doing this to me?"

Albus turned back, "Doing what?"

His tone was so very innocent that Severus leapt to his feet. "This! Why am I even here? Is it to torment me further? Is that it? I do as I am told, I have done for nearly thirteen years now - I am sorry for what I did to Lupin, it was wrong and foolish of me - "

"Ah, but Severus. It wasn't wrong and foolish of you." Albus interrupted, and Severus stopped. "What?"

"Not to your mind, anyway. You thought you were perfectly within your rights to destroy Remus by telling your students about him. Your apology is meaningless if you are simply saying what you think I want to hear." Albus turned away, "As for my motives here - I am simply acquiescing to your own request."

Severus, shaking now, took a step forward. "What…request?" His voice was deadly calm.

Albus simply smiled - smiled! - at him. "Well, Severus. You've always been telling me how you think the treatment of Harry Potter is unfair. You have wanted to know why he is always the one to receive the special treatment, why I should always choose to protect him - and you are correct. Why should he deserve such _special treatment_? Why shouldn't I gift it to all my followers?"

Severus had no answer to that.

"So, here we are. I am protecting you, Severus. I am giving you special treatment." Albus continued to smile. "_Your_ special treatment." With that, he was gone. Severus made to run after him, not sure what he was going to do - perhaps push him down the stairs - but he never got through the door. Instead, he heard a key turn in a lock. "Albus? Did you…?" He tried the handle, "Albus!" He rattled the door, but still it would not budge. He whirled back to the bed, looking for his bag.

"I took the liberty of removing your wand." Albus said over Severus' hitched breathing, "I wasn't sure of your mental stability - I seem to remember that you like taking a wand to yourself when you feel…_victimised_. Eat up, now, before it gets cold."

His request was punctuated with the sound of the bowl crashing against the door.

* * *

><p><em>*SS19 runs for cover, leaving Albus behind for the wolves*<em>


	9. Chapter 9

**Tricks of the Mind**

**Chapter Nine**

He pulled back his sleeve and examined his left arm. The fingers were spasming slightly, his wrist trembling, as the itching under his skin became nearly too much to bear. He winced and dragged the fingernails of his right hand over the dark marks on his skin, scratching feverishly, enough to draw blood. His left hand clenched into a fist as he bit his bottom lip, wanting to deny the very evidence he saw before him - the Dark Mark, re-emerging on his arm -

Pain shot straight up his arm to his neck, hitting the nerves that ran to his brain so his head ached. He sank down against the tiled floor of the bathroom, cradling his forehead against his knees, left hand clutched to his chest as he moaned in pain. Tears sprang to his eyes as he started to shiver, the dark magic engraved into his arm flooding his veins with poison - he stabbed his teeth into his bottom lip, closing his eyes, wanting to remove his arm from his body - why did it hurt so badly? This was no Summons, this was a torment, torture designed for those who had shied from the Dark Lord, those who were in hiding, and he was coming. He was returning. He was coming back, and he would destroy everything and everyone - and there would be such death and destruction and pain - he cried out again, resting his forehead back against the cold tiles, hoping to sooth his burning skin. "Stop…"

There was a presence next to him. He could feel his consciousness slipping away as a hand closed around his wrist and tried to pull his left arm away from his chest. He relented with a moan, feeling rough fingers examine the Mark, pressing against it. He blinked and tried to shake the darkness away, but Voldemort's hold over him was so very strong - it had always been so - and he could not remember how to breathe. He slumped against his companion, eyes closed.

* * *

><p>He was jolted back to some sort of consciousness when something wet travelled up his chin. His eyes flew open and he was greeted with Mesi, who was licking his face. He drew back from her, raising one hand to push her back, "You frightened me, Mesi." He looked at his arm, to find it bandaged. "Who did this…"<p>

His question was answered when Dumbledore sat next to him. "It's clearly stronger than it was. I found you, last night. You were in rather a state." His tone was not sympathetic - but neither was it derisive. It was as if he was simply stating facts. "I thought you would not like to look at the damage you caused when you attempted to claw the Mark away." He pointed to Severus' other hand, "I trimmed your nails - just in case."

Severus stared at him, "You did not have to.'

"I think I did." Albus answered. "Poor Severus."

Severus did not like this game - Albus' tone was softer now - as if he actually cared about him - but how could he? He had imprisoned Severus here, and that hurt more than he wanted to admit. He blinked, feeling strange. "Headmaster…?"

"You must be so terribly frightened." He soothed. "The idea that Lord Voldemort is returning. It must be unbearable to consider."

Severus watched him, fingers of his right hand with his cut fingernails scraping against the blanket, "I knew it was a possibility - " He wanted Albus to leave - the other was too close - and this was a game he no longer wanted to play.

Albus brushed his knuckles against Severus' hair with incredible tenderness. "You do not need to be frightened, Severus. I am here. I will look after you - as I will look after everyone who is threatened by Lord Voldemort."

Did he have to say the name? His arm burnt with each syllable, as if it knew of the treachery he was committing with every passing moment. "I know that, sir." He murmured, not wanting to move from the fingers that were helping with his headache. Maybe Albus had been stressed - maybe everything would be fine - maybe he had forgiven Severus, and he would return to a state where he actually seemed to care for his Potions Master?

Albus smiled slightly at him, "Such a good boy - such a good, brave boy."

Severus relaxed his shoulders just a little, not wanting to seem so tense. He wanted Albus to trust him again - he needed the older wizard as his ally and his friend - he did not want to be odds with him. He could apologise - he could tell Albus he never meant to upset him and hurt him in the way that he had -

"Though - I wonder if a part of you is secretly thrilled?" Albus' voice kept the same tone, the same softness, the same tenderness. Severus glanced at him, "Headmaster?" His vision was a little foggy. It took him a moment too long to focus on Albus. "That your master is returning? That he is coming back from the dead? Tell me, Severus, does that please you?"

"No…no…I no longer serve him -" Severus whispered, but that feeling increased. That feeling of nausea, the feeling that all was not quite right.

"But there'll always be a connection between you and he, will there not?' Albus moved his hand down, so it rested against Severus' chin, turning the younger man's face to his. "And he cared for you a great deal. So you told me."

"I do not serve him." Severus managed, his throat dry and sore. "I do not care for him - I want to see him destroyed - please -"

"Please what? Please believe you?" Albus almost mocked, but his tone remained calm. His fingers trailed down until they were resting against Severus' neck, pushing with a little pressure. "Please do not throw you back to him, because you know he will tear you apart?"

"…Why…why are you doing this?" Severus whispered, feeling very sick and dizzy. "Albus - I'm sorry for what I did - but you are frightening me now - please would you take your hand away?"

"Shush." Albus hushed him, "You are sick, Severus, you just need to sleep - that's all - you will feel better in the morning."

"What…what have you done to me?" Severus murmured, eyes half closed, the ceiling spinning.

"Nothing - just rest a little -" The hand was back, stroking his hair. "Just rest."

Severus drifted back into unconsciousness, and heard no more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tricks of the Mind**

_A belated birthday present, SpencerReid, but just for you! This chapter has taken ten attempts to write, being Chapter Ten and all - and it will not behave. But._

_As a side note. Excessively Perky, I bow and offer the ending of this chapter as homage._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten:<strong>

Severus stirred, head aching behind his temples. He raised his fingers to his warm skin and massaged gently, hissing slightly. His eyes flickered open and he stared up at the ceiling, too white and too bright for his liking. He turned his head slowly to one side, bringing his vision back into some sort of focus, and flinched at the colours. He was still in this house, then. He had hoped it had all been some terrible nightmare.

But no.

He closed his eyes again, wanting to kick the blanket away because he was too hot. His head was pounding, as if he had drunk too much alcohol and the intoxication was still poisoning his blood. Moaning, he clenched the blankets and attempted to pull himself together. That was harder - conjuring the thought was difficult - almost as if his nerve impulses were not working - or something was stopping things making sense -

He sat up, horror drowning his stomach before he wished he had not moved quite so quickly. He _knew_ this feeling. He had seen it enough times - the dazed expression, the blank look - it was the power that Veritaserum had over a weak mind. Severus was practically immune to its effects - the Occlumency barriers he erected protecting much of his mind - but even he could be defeated if it was subtle.

If he hadn't known.

If someone had been feeding him a small amount of the potion, constantly, over a prolonged period -

Dumbledore had been giving him Veritaserum. Tiny amounts - but enough to build up in his system - to start chipping away at those barriers - Severus would hardly have noticed - it could have started at Hogwarts, that may have been why he had said such terrible things -

He had to get out of here. It was becoming a matter of urgency now. He could not stay here. He would end up saying something he regretted. A piece of information - whatever - not that he was sure what Dumbledore wanted. None of this made much sense. Was he under suspicion again? Did the Ministry think he was still serving the Dark Lord on his imminent return? He knew he played the game well - but - he had demonstrated enough times that he was loyal, had been through the trials, the interrogation, the humiliation…

He closed his eyes against the memories - the cold Azkaban cell, the cruelty of those who saw him as nothing more than a lying snake - the sting of the Veritaserum - no - he would not remember this -

He crossed the carpet in a hurry and headed for the stairs. Down them two at a time - across the hallway - to the door - where was he supposed to go - what was he supposed to do - where was he supposed to head - he did not care -

He rattled the door and found it locked. Reached for his wand - of course, he had no wand, Dumbledore had his wand - and he realised then, in that moment, this was Azkaban.

Again. He was back in Azkaban, the cold and the fear and the Dementors and the locked doors and the lack of magic, and the determination to escape and the hatred of his captors, his captive self, those who had put him there, those who would keep him there - Dumbledore -

It was always Dumbledore! He was there, always. Making Severus' life difficult and harder and keeping him trapped. He truly was the puppet on a string. Not allowed to leave Hogwarts, not allowed to leave here, frightened into submission by the threat of Azkaban, driven into reluctant adoration when the other rescued him from Azkaban, willing to serve - willing to sit around - willing to do as he was damn well told -

It was always Dumbledore.

He rattled the door again, louder this time, letting out a growl of frustration when it did not move, taunted him only - "I will not stay here!" Bellowing at the wood made no difference - he leant against the door and his arm hurt. He stared down at the bandage. He needed no bandage. The tiny cut nails of his hands - he tugged the bandage away and stared at the Mark on his arm. Dark and black and lined with dried blood and scratches. The reminder that he was nothing more than a servant.

He sank down against the door. Why did the arm have to hurt? Why did he have to be here? Why had he taken the Mark in the first place? Why could he have not just been normal? Why hadn't he followed his original dreams - to be a Potions Master - to discover potions that no one had dreamed - to live in an exotic country on a handsome wage - never to worry about food or captivity or loneliness or isolation - just - just him.

When had his life become so damned empty?

The moment Albus Dumbledore had decided he needed Severus. Offered him a lifeline, the lifeline a twenty one year old man was searching for to save his one best friend and her husband and their child - her child - and used it as -

"The key to your cage?"

Severus' head shot up. Dumbledore was leaning against the wall, fingers casually wrapped around Severus' wand. "You should not think so loudly. But you are correct. I keep you locked away, the bars are your own mistakes - and the key is Lily. That is the only way to use you."

Severus stared at him. "Give me…my wand."

"Why? What will you do with it? Apparate away from here? Where will you go? You forget, Severus, that I need you. And because I need you, I will not let you go." His voice turned cruelly mocking, "And you don't want to return to Azkaban, do you?"

Severus was staring at his wand - "Give it to me."

Albus held it out to him. Severus had forgotten how to stand.

"You are a coward, Severus Tobias Snape. That is your prison. Not me - not whoever else you wish to try to blame - just you. You and your cowardice."

Severus remembered how to stand. And move quickly. And snatch. And suddenly he was holding his wand, pointing it at Dumbledore, hand shaking. "I could kill you. I could kill you where you stand."

"You could. I am conveniently unarmed. You are conveniently armed. You could indeed kill me. But why?"

"Because of what you are."

"And what, am I, Severus? The great and the benevolent, offering Death-Eaters a chance for redemption and rehabilitation. What is so wrong with that?" Albus' tone was benign, gentle, teasing.

"If I kill you, I won't have to go back to him." His Dark Mark burned, aware of such treachery, and he wondered if the Dark Lord knew it too.

"That would be enough reasoning. Could you do it though? Are you capable of it, Severus? Are you capable?"

He gripped the wand tighter, his muscles tense. He could see his knuckles, turning white. His breathing was too sharp, too short. "You did this to me."

"No, Severus. You did this to you. I just help with the damage control…"

"I am only damaged because of you!" Severus spat, knowing that it was the Veritaserum talking rather than his own rational mind - but he was going to do this - he was going to kill him -

"Voldemort broke you, Severus. He turned you into this twisted monster. No one else is responsible. Besides you for being weak. And wanting it."

"Then watch me, Dumbledore. Watch me fulfil your own expectations." He raised his wand again, aiming for Dumbledore's chest -

"You need me, Severus. You will not admit it. But you need me. You need me to keep you locked away. Because what are you, if not locked away?"

He knew the words of the curse.

"Exactly what you accused Remus of being."

It would take no more than four seconds.

"A monster."

It was the flare of anger. It took no more than four seconds. Flash of green light, the snarl of a curse, and Albus Dumbledore hit the floor.

Still.

Severus stood where he was, wand still extended, not quite sure what he had just done. The evidence was before his eyes, ringing in his ears - but -

He stepped closer to Dumbledore, thinking this was another trick. This had to be a trick. But Dumbledore did not move. His eyes were open. The expression within them was glassy. He did not blink.

Severus stared at him. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore.

He knelt by the body. Placed his hand to the cooling throat. But there was nothing to feel. No pulse. No heartbeat. No life.

He threw the wand away, disgusted at its treachery.

What had he done?


	11. Chapter 11

**Tricks of the Mind**

_Hello, all. I am sorry for the long delay - sometimes, real life just seems to get in the way. I have spent the morning getting familiar with my stories, and hope to update more regularly from now on._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven:<strong>

He was a murderer.

Severus Snape was a murderer. The word did not process in his hear. Mur. Der. Er. The syllables did not run together. When he tried to speak them as one word, his throat seized up and his eyes burnt and hot sweat started to secrete from each pore on his body. His mind supplied the definition.

_Killer_.

_Intentionally ended the life of someone else._

Intentionally? No. It had not - had it - surely not - but he had meant it - did that mean it was intentional - he had wanted it - wanted, that was a strong word - he had been so angry - no, he hadn't meant to -

_It is done now. What happens next?_

Next? It was difficult remembering to take the next _breath_, let alone force his mind to conjure what to do _next_. His hands were shaking, his knees weak - he needed to sit down - but he wasn't sure if he could get back up again - what had he - what had he done -

His thoughts broke. White noise and screaming inside his ears forced him to cover them with his hands and whimper, slumping against the door, pleading with it to stop. It felt as though his blood was boiling, pounding, burning inside his veins. His lungs were rejecting the air gulped into them - tightening - his entire chest - and his heart trying to escape, wriggling, struggling.

He bent over, curling his spine, chin pressed into his breast, arms around his legs, moaning and whispering soft words, anything to keep himself awake - alive - conscious - he peered across at the collapsed figure - a product of his own anger - his own despair - and his stomach turned.

He moved faster than he thought possible. His feet practically cartwheeling beneath him, he sprinted to the kitchen and reached the sink before his stomach attempted to force itself up his windpipe - and instead, acid was expelled and spat into the basin, his chest spasming and his throat burning as he coughed and spluttered and felt the foul bile drool down the side of his chin - he did not have the strength to wipe it away, knees giving way, arms stretched and supporting himself on the work surface. Somewhere in his remote mind, it hurt.

Darkness was poisoning his vision. He was tired - exhausted - curling on the floor in a heap, sobbing, whining, like an animal - a dog kicked by its master, shut out into the cold - and with the taste of his own stomach still on his lips and his tongue and his palate, his eyes closed and he surrendered himself.

* * *

><p>"He is fading."<p>

"Keep him alive. We need to find out precisely what happened."

"You don't think…"

"No. Not possible."

_He was drifting. The void was dark._

"But the evidence…"

"I know. But, we cannot think like this. Make sure he pulls through - that is our priority, now."

_Voices, so far away. Too far away. He wanted to reach for them, but they were the light, and he was shut at the bottom of this well, grates in place, unable to reach - only seeing - hearing - feeling - not touching -_

"What have you done? What happened? If you wake, you can tell us. You are not in any danger."

_But he was in danger, though. He was very much in danger. When they found out what he had done…_

"Just relax. We will bring you back. Then you can explain. Just come back to me…"

_Why should he go back? What was left for him now? Azkaban, the Kiss - couldn't he just let go -_

"Do not let go, my boy."

_That voice…_

"You need to fight, Severus."

_How could that voice be…_

"As your Headmaster, Severus, I think you should wake up…"

_Albus…no….what fresh torment was this…_

"I did not think that would work. Just wake, Severus. We'll find out what happened to you. We will make it better."

_His heart race was increasing, body temperature rising, this was not possible, this was not real, this could not be real…_

"Poppy! Quickly!"

"I'm trying Albus - he's panicking - his heart rate - that's too fast - I need to sedate him - calm him down -"

_Did she say…_

"There. Let him sleep. He will recover in time."

_…Al…bus….? _


	12. Chapter 12

**Tricks of the Mind**

_I apologise once again for the long delay. A couple of you have correctly identified what happened, and I have changed the point of view for this chapter. Spencer, hopefully you will begin to see what is happening now..._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twelve:<span>**

Albus Dumbledore was unsettled. This was an uncomfortable feeling. Being a brilliant and humbly fantastic wizard, he never found himself unsettled - he could always provide an explanation for particular objects, situations, happenings, behaviour...and yet, it was the last which was causing him the most difficulty. Namely, the behaviour of one Severus Snape, veteran Potions Master and dweller in the dungeons - since he had recovered consciousness, little more than two hours before.

First, there was how he had stared at Albus as if he had, quite simply, seen a ghost. Albus had never seen such fear in those black eyes, not recently, not since Voldemort had fallen - it had taken him aback. He had watched as Severus' gaze had examined every part of him - the Headmaster - as if unsure of whether he was real, or not.

Then he had thrown up, which matron Poppy Pomfrey had warned Albus would most likely happen. Not that there was anything to throw up in the Potion Master's stomach. Albus had sat beside him, and made sure he hadn't choked, cleaning up the mess with a simple wave of his wand, and using the opportunity to touch Severus' hand.

If he had not known better, Albus would have thought he burned Severus, such was the speed of Severus' reflex - he drew his hand away faster than Albus could blink, and tucked it under the blankets so that the exposed skin was hidden. Albus had stared at his own hand, where Severus' fingers had been, returned his attention to Severus and finally asked, "...How are you feeling, my boy?"

This was where Severus' behaviour was particularly puzzling. Those hostile, fearful eyes looked away, so Albus could not read any more of their emotions. The response, when it came after a long delay, was frighteningly soft and gentle - "I'm fine, thank you, sir."

_Sir_?

When Albus and Severus had first started on this path to becoming Headmaster and teacher, and friends beside, Severus had always referred to his superior as, "Sir." It had taken Albus nearly four months to break that habit - to find the word replaced with the just as formal, "Headmaster." But, headmaster was more familiar than sir, Albus had supposed.

So why was the word making a curious reappearance now?

"Severus, my dear boy, I have learned from many years that you, saying you are 'fine', is when I am supposed to press for more information." Trying to keep the mood light, not to let any of his confusion show in his tone or in his mannerisms, Albus had attempted to see if Severus was indeed fine, or if he was hiding something.

As fine as he could be, after having a rather nasty fall somewhere, ending up unconscious in his rooms, and lying there for a good few hours before Albus had found him. Since then, he had been asleep. Unconscious. In a coma. Still Albus had yet to find an explanation for this. Poppy assumed it was due to the injury sustained in the Shrieking Shack, but Albus remained sceptical. Severus had been acting...peculiar...for most of the year. Much more so than normal. He had always been quiet, withdrawn, almost shy - but Albus knew he could also be a joy, someone to really enjoy company with - this year, he had been abusive toward everyone else, generally angry and brooding...their conversations were stilted and few. Albus understood some of the hatred - he had hired Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black had escaped...but this was something else. He wondered if something was happening to Severus that the other had not revealed.

After the use of the title, Albus had let Severus rest a little longer, as the other seemed very tired. He was taking this opportunity to survey the younger man from a distance - how he lay very still and very straight in the bed, as if he didn't want to take up more space than necessary. How his eyes stared up at the ceiling and he hardly blinked. How his chest showed short, sharp breathing. He was pale. Albus hated it. And he could not longer stand it.

He went to sit beside Severus.

Severus flinched.

He physically flinched. Albus stared at him, hurt. "Severus..."

Severus did not respond. He stayed, lying still, staring now ahead of him.

"Severus, my boy. Tell me what happened..." What had possibly gone wrong? He had not even spoken to Severus. "Severus, please."

Severus' response was soft. A gentle murmur. Nothing more. It shocked Albus to his very core. "I want to leave Hogwarts. I want to resign."


End file.
